


A Nice Ring to It

by zinke



Category: Stargate SG1
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-08
Updated: 2010-02-08
Packaged: 2017-10-12 04:35:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/120859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zinke/pseuds/zinke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been days now since her unexpected promotion and though she enjoys the warm swell of pride she feels at the sound of her new title, the practiced nonchalance in Jack's voice is telling her there's more to his presence here than a desire to offer yet another round of congratulations.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Nice Ring to It

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to gabolange, zaleti, for volunteering to lend me their ears and opinions, and as always to caz963 for the read-through and comma control.

Sam's in her lab, having retreated there to take advantage of the preternatural quiet that's descended in the wake of the President's departure, when she notices a shadow of movement out of the corner of her eye. Looking up from the computer screen, she's surprised to find the Colonel – _General_ , she corrects silently – leaning casually against the doorjamb, tie loosened and top two buttons of his shirt undone, watching her with a lopsided grin.

"Lieutenant Colonel Samantha Carter," he enunciates carefully, folding his arms casually across his chest."Sounds good. Has a nice ring to it."

It's been days now since her unexpected promotion and though she enjoys the warm swell of pride she feels at the sound of her new title, the practiced nonchalance in Jack's voice is telling her there's more to his presence here than a desire to offer yet another round of congratulations.

Before she has a chance to come up with an appropriate reply, he's abandoned his perch in the doorway and is ambling into the room, waving a dismissive hand in her general direction. "I know, I know. Old news. But news worth repeating, don't you think?"

Sam can only nod, giving him a small, uncertain smile as he makes his way over to her workbench. Picking up a spool of electrical wire, he turns it over several times in his hands before sending it into the air once, twice, then sending it spinning again.

She watches him silently for several moments before venturing softly, "Is something on your mind, sir?"

"Yes," he says a little too emphatically, the spool falling to the concrete floor with a dull clunk. He hazards a brief, unrepentant glance downward before continuing, "Teal'c's itching to get off base for a while, Daniel's hungry and I don't know about you, but I could really, _really_ use a beer." He rubs his hands together expectantly. "So, what do you say?"

Meant no doubt to help persuade her, the twinkle in his eye and charming, lopsided grin only serve to make her feel self-conscious. Sliding off her stool, Sam bends down to retrieve the abandoned wire, taking exaggerated care in returning it to its proper place on the table. "I…sort of have plans."

"Ah." Slipping his hands into his pockets, he drops his gaze and rocks back slightly on the balls of his feet. "Pete?"

She nods in response, trying – and failing, she suspects – not to look as uncomfortable as she feels. A small part of her resents him for making her feel guilty about this – about Pete. This thing between the two of them has never been simple, but lately it's felt…easier, more malleable somehow. Most of the time, she's content enough with the way things are to not question how or why circumstances have changed. But when he's looking at her like that, his expression a poorly concealed mixture of longing and regret, she can't _help_ wondering if maybe things aren't quite as straightforward as she's led herself to believe.

There's a rustle of starched fabric as Jack shifts slightly on his feet, and she can sense the sudden change in his demeanor even before she looks up to find him eying her warily. Her heart beats a little faster at the realization that he's finally getting around to telling her whatever it is he's come here to say. "Listen Carter, about earlier."

"Sir?"

He fidgets slightly, eyes trained on the tips of his impeccably shined dress shoes. "You're ready for your own command, Carter," he says softly, lifting his head to gaze at her intently. "You've _been_ ready."

The earlier casualness with which he told her the results of her field evaluation is conspicuously absent now, and the uncharacteristic earnestness in his tone throws her more than she'd like to admit. "Then sir, if you don't mind my asking...?"

If possible, her question seems to make him even more uncomfortable. She watches his expression shift as he considers his answer; eventually he shrugs his shoulders before stating simply, "You guys, you're still my team."

His explanation, while cryptic, isn't surprising. She'd have been a fool not to realize how hard it would be for him to give up active field duty, how much he would miss it. And while she could certainly empathize with him, she couldn't shake the feeling there was more to his delaying the mission than reluctance to let go of the past. "We've gone out on missions without you before."

"That was different."

"Because this time I was in command."

"Yes." He immediately winces and shakes his head. "No. Yes, but not for the reasons you think." Sighing heavily, he scrubs a hand over his face. When he meets her eyes a moment later, his expression is almost apologetic. "Before, it wasn't me making the call."

And just like that, it clicks. She should have at least suspected – as brash as he makes himself out to be, Jack O'Neill is, in truth, his own harshest critic, and in his own self-deprecating way he'd shared his reservations with her, Daniel and Teal'c after Weir had first offered him the promotion, But preoccupied as she'd been with her own fears and doubts, she'd failed to recognize his caution for what it actually was. His insistence on sending SG-3 with them had had nothing to do with his faith in her abilities – and everything to do with his lack of confidence in his own. A distrust that, however misplaced, had no doubt been reinforced by the belief that they'd been captured in spite of his efforts, and later by the discovery that he'd been duped by – of all people – Ba'al.

She wants to find some way to convince him he's wrong, that he's as ready and capable as for this next step in his career as she is for hers, but isn't sure how to do so without sounding like she's giving him an obligatory response or reciprocation.

Eventually, she decides to fall back on what's most comfortable for them and hope for the best. "You know sir; General O'Neill has a nice ring to it, too."

"You think so?" He gives her a sidelong glance. "Doesn't make me sound kind of…stuffy?"

"Not stuffy. Distinguished, maybe."

He immediately pulls a face. "Carter, when people are asked to describe me I seriously doubt 'distinguished' is the first word they would use."

Turning to face him fully, she straightens and lifts her gaze to meet his. "Yes, sir; they do. And so should you."

He doesn't respond right away. Sam continues to meet his gaze steadily, until finally his expression relaxes and he nods once, slowly. She feels her lips curl into a responding smile and reluctantly looks away, putting an end to the moment before it has a chance to become anything more.

By the time she's resumed her perch on the stool, he's moved away and is once again fiddling with the contents of her work bench, fingers moving restlessly from one object to the next. Abruptly, the restless motion stops and he turns to her with what surely would have been a convincingly pathetic expression if not for the twinkle in his eyes. "C'mon Carter, one drink," he cajoles, visibly struggling to suppress a grin. "Teal'c's buying."

She's glancing at her watch and doing the reverse math in her head before she even realizes she's made her decision. Smiling up at him, Sam reaches over and shuts off the lamp by her computer. "Teal'c?" she asks disbelievingly, reaching for her purse.

"What can I say? The guy really wants to party."

She swallows her laughter, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of knowing just how effectively his terrible jokes have won her over. At his insistence she precedes him through the door, slowing her steps once outside to allow him to draw even with her. "So, did Teal'c happen to mention where we're going?"

"He and Daniel were still arguing about it when I came to find you. Frankly, as long as the place has no buffets or bunting of any kind, I don't care."

"It was really that bad?"

"You have no idea," he groans dramatically as they round the corner and make their way to the elevator where – unsurprisingly – Daniel and Teal'c are already waiting for them.

 

*fin.*


End file.
